


Prying For The Other

by Deiwimin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, I know I'm a clown at this point but, I sure don't - Freeform, If you believe it-death, M/M, Sexual Content, Sideline Thramsay, Thou Shalt Not Question Mine Tastes, Wolkyn, hear me out, whatever that means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deiwimin/pseuds/Deiwimin
Summary: Well yikes.What if Wolkan was a lonely, lonely bloke? Wouldn't you like to see him joyous for once? No? You heartless fiend! Damdenest creature! You get the gist.
Relationships: Maester Wolkan/Sour Alyn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 6





	1. What The Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a normal thing to write at all? Am I betraying my beloved Thrammers? Stick round to find out!...or not!

"Divide and conquer boys, divide and rule." And the door was shut.

"Well fucking Nora's cunt." Here was Alyn, with the less than soothing doctor of the house.  
"Can you pass me the plastic bag?" Wolkan did so, much wearily still in his own thoughts that were not thoughts.

Gruesome night, well in fact it was day already. Wolkan was asked to stand by and announce the state in which the current carcass had been. When it was a moving, living creature if you will. Ramsay made a hack job of it, leaving the cleanup to him and the unlucky boy who lost at whatever draw it was this time. It was rock, paper, scissors. Alyn used too much scissors.

A plop of thigh flew down the bag in a familiar squelch. It was the only big piece left of the body. The rest of it were with the boys, who would likely be emptying the trunk after having at some skank.

After Ramsay turned eighteen he was insufferable. Wolkan didn't see much of it, though he could've guessed. But Alyn did. Of course it was tolerable, but he clearly felt more pushed around than ever. _Alyn you sour fuck! Oh shut the fuck up and get out of the way. Got your balls coming out your mouth Alyn? No wonder no bitch wants to kiss you._

They could laugh about it, and as long as you could still giggle at the jokes it should be fine. Besides he'd made some close jabs too.

Alyn mumbled. "Grunt that asshole. I know he cheated." He earned an unsympathetic look from Wolkan. The poor sod couldn't speak for starters.

By now the red had cleared off every surface, and Alyn changed his gloves; grabbing the luminol spray to double check the lighted room was rid of traces.

"You don't think he pulled a trick! When was the last time Grunt stayed behind? And why do you always stay?" That got the doctor's attention. Doing this wasn't a requirement per se, not even something he necessarily delighted in. It just- happened.

Roose wasn't short on men just yet either. Likely boredom then. "Why shouldn't I," He saw his glasses and phone into his case. Then checked his watch. Thirty four past five in the morning.

"Well it's a shitty job is all."

Alyn couldn't believe he was making chit chat with him, and Wolkan couldn't believe the dimness of the ceiling bulb.

Wolkan had an offended look to him, the corners of his mouth stretching into a thin line. "I don't see how it's any of your concern young man."

Then Alyn realised he misunderstood. And he was twenty two! That should account for something.

"No _doctor_ , I meant cleaning up gore at Satan's hour is a bloody shitty shift." Ah.

Wolkan cleared his throat instinctively, ridding himself the unfortunate embarrassment. His eyes casually hazed over the door, but before he made a move, Alyn continued. "I mean, who the fuck decided you should dispose of meat in the morning before the retarded birds are chirping!" Well, he was in a social mood.

Closing in, the Sour A. (Gods know how the boys come up with these names) unintentionally let out an offensive breath.

"Have you checked up your dental hygiene lately? There's a clear presence of morning breath in your mouth." Alyn would've retorted very differently if there was a suggestion of mockery.

"No, but I brush my teeth every day. Breath's always been rough." Wolkan gave him a hard stare, as if attempting to kill the supposed bacteria with his eye.

"Acid reflux then. Do you have heartburn?" Getting invasive, and Alyn didn't know what to make of it.

"What are ya, my mum? But yeah, my doctor gave me those stupid Pantoprazole antacids."

"Do they not work?"

Alyn raised a brow at this. "I don't give a shit if they work or not, first week I got on them nasty things and I was vomiting buckets." He got emotive, expanding his fingers to express his frustration.

"Rolaids? Aciphex might be too strong for you."

"Those barely last a minute."

This time languidly, Wolkan looked down and a prescription paper suddenly emerged from his pocket. "Pen? Nevermind."

The one from his case was enough. He began scribbling this inconceivable text with blue ink. "Famotidine."

"What?" Alyn was promptly handed the slip and he was confused for a second.

"Pepcids. Famotidine. Try those, they should be lower in level than Pantoprazole, but stronger than Rolaids." What in the hells? Never in his life had he imagined there would be help from this weathered geezer.

He never expected help at all.

"What's in it for you? Are you asking for a favour? You should know old-"

He was cut off before you could snap a pill in half. "If I wanted a favour, you think I'd ask you?" He didn't let the young man reply. "Just see it as me being tired of that pungent exhaling. And drink more water please, I know you boys think you're made out of sixty percent alcohol, but just wait untill you get cirrhosis. Not that I should care."

Rant galore. Alyn was sure he'd never heard him speak so much before. Was the man going senile? That might be it. Nothing else would explain 'kindness' on his part.

"Alright, _babe_. I'll let you go to the fucking spa with the twilight glitter treatment, so stop nagging."

Annoyed, Wolkan was about to speak but Alyn beat him to it.  
"This better not be a prank. Like it turns out to be a laxative or some bollocks."

He pocketed the little scripture of nonsense and left the house feeling, less solid.


	2. Candies And That One Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morsel-of-life. Because slices won't cut it. Yes, that made much sense as this pairing doth make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Though I wonder why you would...

Ramsters seemed to have his moods taken with something. Knowing him, it could be anything. Alyn found out a week later after a lengthy stalking session. It was some senior kid, probably same as himself if Alyn had gone to college. 

A lot of the time he and the others were asked to step out, so that Mr Rammstein could put on his flame show of doom.

This time round, he sat in the car with Damon and Skins, waiting to pick their friend up. "Wait so you're saying he's in love or some shit?" Skinner pushed Alyn's face further from his proximity.

"I ain't saying anything. Just that he's acting like fucking Yuno Gasai, minus the pretty face." No one quite caught that. "You know, the diary thing my little cousin made me watch." He went on explaining how the overtly affectionate homicidal schoolgirl was basically the queen of yandaro or something of the likes.

Damon snorted. "She makes you watch anime? Dude, you're more of a pussy than I thought!" Alyn burst out laughing.

Skinner smacked them both on the shoulder. Well, more like punched Damon. "Oi! I had to babysit her, and she wouldn't shut up. She's only 12, and it's actually not that bad."

More, now teary laughter ensued from the car. Then there was an external knock. "You hens done cackling?" He had a triumphant smile, mixed with this smitten look in the eyes. Alyn shuddered a bit.

"What happened," opening the car door, Skinner stepped out.

"Let's just say I've got a lot ahead of me." Let's not just say that. Whatever it was, it sounded more like work than play.

They drove back to have some vodka and blow at Ramsay's. If anything was a perk of being his friend, this might have been on the top of the list. He woke up feeling shitty next morning though.

On his pocket was a packet of Pepcids. He found that you could buy them over the counter, but the pharmacist wouldn't let him have it until Alyn surrendered the paper over. Did he look that suspicious? It only pissed him off more. His grandma would've said it was all in his attitude.

The tap provided good, filtered water which was essential in his moment of need. The half empty glass was consumed along with the tablet, punching down with the gulp. He finished it and decided to run more water in, questing to save his dehydrated throat.

Thankfully the bile had not surfaced at that point. And hopefully it would stay that way for the rest of the day.

Sure this payed, but at the end of the day; Alyn's healthcare was his own business. After using the drug he somehow felt less nauseous. There was no throw up either. Maybe he really should stick to the pepcids after all.

\- -

Birthday card, carte postale and new socks. Maeren remembered, though knowing why would be a fool's venture. It came in the post late, but he could see the date on the postcard.

She had gone to Sicily. Maybe to chase after her gag inducing cosa nostra phase when she was fourteen. Who knows if it ever left her bloodstream. She was with her new 'friend'.

Wolkan wouldn't want to know whether it was they took him for a cockadoodle or they were simply that naive. A friend like so who gets grandstanded with every chance on Facebook posting. Essentially her trophy bitch.

He oughtn't think of his niece like that. Worse at covering up than Mrs Bolton's adoration to Roose though.

He made his morning coffee; more sugar no milk. He couldn't have it anymore to save his calcium levels.

There was a book and cup of coffee on standby. Compassion In The Self. Because he needed all the self he could help himself with. Also why he felt impelled to give common advice to the boy a few days ago. Not that he seemed like the type to turn their life around.

Wolkan fluffed up the raw egg in a bowl, mixing it with pepper and chives. He wasn't much of a salt person but he would have some cheese. Then sizzled the sausages and tomato.

He appreciated the dishwasher, because if there was any more scrubbing going for him; his last marble would take its hat and leave.

Breakfast was indeed the most important meal of the day. Sometimes the only real one for Wolkan. If he had the time, he would bother himself for either dinner or lunch perhaps, but for now crackers and an apple or orange should suffice.

Switching on the TV, the sofa never looked more alluring. Off days were always a treat. Except when they were not; and he had to resort to the tablet, making up for his lost time. He sometimes had a new copy or two of Helse lying around for when he felt too worn out to do anything else.

This could have been one of each those times if it weren't for Dustin's summon. She needed him at eight o'clock sharp. Possibly yet another fallen tune?

It’s not easy, being sixty one.

Alyn had recovered by the time everyone was up and moving. If they had somewhere to go, he wasn’t told. It was one of those surprise trips. He hated those. Speculating now, Alyn hated most things anyways. Then again he would end up enjoying some, in spite of himself. Someone would end up making a remark and he’d have a new complaint filed right back. A cycle of underappreciation.

When they arrived to their destined land of candies and rainbows there were actual birds tweeting. Seems they were going for a hunt, like the old times. It’s been eight months since they went on a sentimentally stimulated expedition. Was this the end or something? Alyn felt something tiny leaving its slimy shell and drift out of him for a strong moment. It was a loss, and he felt bad, but he likely needn’t.

Alyn came up to Damon, head nearing his chin. He took a soft breath, letting out garish noise. “So where is she, hiding in the bushes?”

“Yeah p- Alyn! Your teeth stopped rotting!” Luridly grabbing onto his shoulder, Damon urged everyone to ‘see’ for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so daft XD
> 
> Is it crack? You may tell me.
> 
> For the record, Rammstein is the ultimate form of life.


	3. Forestime Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for sentiment! 'One day to come together to release the pressure!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun, three souls who are reading this! XD

Pissed off yet impressed, Alyn brought up his palm and breathed into it. It smelt of nothing in particular but warmth. Nothing to cause offence. He carted his hand through his dark hair and looked away in fresh embarrassment.

"Fuck off Damon."

"Ha no, this is the end of the world!" Damon ruffled Alyn's hair and laughed, not caring if he was signing up for death by little guy. "I just found suitable meds that's all. Get off my back." Hearing that, Luton came over looking all suggestive.

"Never seemed to bother you before. What, got a boyfriend now? Knowing you it'd be a ladyboy!" Oh Alyn was going to get them shits one day or another.

"Get it, because you're a creep-" Fist collided with gut; he couldn't take their bullshit any longer.

Alyn hadn’t even noticed there was a hooker in the trunk before Ramsay and Skinner produced her like Saturday groceries. She was bottle blonde with the brown roots coming out, and her eyes were wild. Not even darting around, so frozen in terror. Luton was recovering from the mild punch when they sliced off the rope for her.

She took her gag off on her own, whispering manic drivel to herself.

Damon explained the rules until Ramsay took over. Desperate much? He was really into control lately, looking up strategy manuals, and Alyn once even caught him reading ‘48 Laws of Power’! Who would care anyway, she’s dead meat, and will be dead in five hours tops.

Friendship can truly be a series of cringe compilation, topped by the one minute of fun sometimes. If he pointed out any of this, they would be complaining on how he was bitching again. 

This should be exciting, a merry fucking time but Alyn couldn’t become too pumped up for some reason.

“Sour, why so sour?” Damon. “But then that’s why we call you that…” As if speculating a quadratic equation, he paused to find everyone’s reactions. There had been some impressed smiles. After a couple of back and forths it was time to find the woman.

Alone. That’s what Alyn felt like. More than ever. Felt like what a female must be feeling on her period on a hot summer night, after her half sister stole her dream job. And her dad went out for the cigarettes...or something.

Grunt stayed in a clearing, making sure everything was fine, waiting for the girls, and the others were going all out in their search. Not much of a sprinter.

During play, Damon was bitten with such force, a small piece of arm almost detached. It sure hurt like hell; as he was screaming profanities and wailing filth.

After the fun, he felt considerably better. Ramsay approached him. They hadn’t talked all that much that day, apart from banter when they hacked the hooker up. “Next Saturday I need you at nine o’clock sharp. You wait at Madcap for me, and I’ll bring the music with me.” Alyn wanted to roll his eyes. “Sure Rams, as long as you honour the keg party you promised me.” Ramsay grinned and patted Alyn’s back hard.

-

Wolkan heard a shuffle of steps until someone knocked on his study. Attentively he opened the door, expecting an important case of severe bleeding or confirmation of life. It was those boys. Damon looked a little pale, although he looked nowhere near hemorrhaging.

He studied the wound, nothing he couldn’t stitch up.

Didn’t give the little shit painkillers down the tiny clinic, claiming Damon didn’t need any, unless he was a little girl. He worked on the sutures, listening to the uncomfortable hisses and grunts. He made sure they were the complex running types, and closely together to his satisfaction.

“Ow, outch! I swear this geezer hates me.” He didn’t fear Wolkan anymore after the needle was far, far away from him. “Can’t we change a physician?” Ramsay sighed.

“Well you tell my father then. Mr. Bolton, Doctor Wolkan pinched my arm with his big, fat needle, I call abuse! Want dolls to show him where he touched you too?” Joke well received.

The group dissipated after their business was done, and Wolkan made his way back to his office, until Alyn who stayed behind stopped him. 

“Hey, thank you for the suggestion. It worked a lot better than the other medicine. It’s not some plot to manipulate me is it?” One glance to that wry smile and he realised the guy was human. Nothing like doctor Qyburn, man he saw only twice in his life. Maybe for the best. The mad hatter and Frankenstein combined was that man.

In fact, how desperate was he to get an apprenticeship anyway? Must have been hard in his time, resorting to the lunatic.

“Good it worked, if you’ll…” Wants to leave.

“Yeah, see you man.” He was half turned until he heard Wolkan continue.

“Take care I suppose. But just so you know, stress is also very bad for your condition.”

“Isn’t it bad for everything?” Wolkan shrugged in agreement as Alyn spoke. “Doctor said my hernia has been messing me upside down, so a lot of different problems have been lubing me up before the final muscle popping stomach-fucks me.”

For once, Wolkan felt sympathy for the devil. Poor boy seems to have been suffering through more than his diabetic father on his deathbed. Perhaps Wolkan should work on himself before passing any judgement. Or maybe he was going senile, corrupt enough to connect with crooks. Was it hypocritical?

Alyn left, though not before he unloaded his family’s history of chronic diseases on the table.

But then, who is completely healthy these days? Strange, strange conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s what Damon gets for messing with other harlotry. How dare he; when he has us! Am I right? 😝
> 
> I say 'don't ask', but what I really mean is; please ask away!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the crackiest crack ship I've gotten onboard with. I might be onto something!  
> Or again, I might be going nutters.  
> Plane trip? More like acid!
> 
> And yes I am aware some antacids can be laxatives 😂


End file.
